


The Perfect Gift

by Merci



Category: Tekken
Genre: Christmas, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Shounen-ai, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-29
Updated: 2008-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-16 20:26:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/169009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merci/pseuds/Merci
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s Christmas, but Hwoarang has second thoughts about the gift he got for Jin.  Will he be able to distract the other man long enough to buy a replacement, or will he have to suffer the humiliation of failure?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perfect Gift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sammei](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Sammei).



> **Disclaimer:** I do not own Jin, Hwoarang, or Tekken. I am making no profit from this fanfiction.
> 
> This was a Christmas gift fic for Sammei.  She had asked for Hwoarang and Jin and something very feel-good fluffy.  I like the thought of these two doing the Christmas thing together, it’s like, despite all the weird stuff that happens to them in the storyline, they still try to live regular lives.

Hwoarang sat on the floor, knees together, his feet beneath him, fists balled tightly on his lap and his eyes cast downward, avoiding Jin who sat opposite him.  The wind howled outside his apartment and the thin glass windowpane rattled lightly in its fitting.  The redhead bowed, staring intently at the cracked floorboards just beneath his knees, but he could still _feel_ Jin in front of him, moving towards the fake Christmas tree and picking up the gift with his name on it.

‘ _To Jin From Hwoarang_ ’ is what it said.  At the time, Hwoarang had thought it was the perfect gift for the other man, but now that it was time for the dark-haired man to open his present, he wasn’t so sure.

“H-hey!” he said, moving on instinct and hopping up from his spot on the floor.  “Before we open presents, want to… uh, go for some beer?”

Jin’s brow quirked up at an odd angle, his hand hovering just above the present that was at the centre of Hwoarang’s thoughts.  The misaligned wrapping paper was bunched in spots, held tightly with packing tape to keep the odd ball-shape of the gift.

“Or, lights!  Let’s go look at Christmas lights, okay?”  That sounded a bit better and Jin’s expression brightened at the thought.  Hwoarang mentally punched himself for suggesting beer when he was trying to get Jin _away_ from that damn gift, not make him want to stay and open it.

Jin nodded, a small smile lingering on his mouth before he stood and went to retrieve their winter coats.

It was surprisingly cold that night.  The wind whipped along the city streets and Jin wrapped his arms tightly around himself, his jacket inadequate to keep out the chill.  Hwoarang stepped closer to the other man and placed his arm around his shoulders, pulling Jin closer as they walked.  He was beginning to think it was a bad idea to suggest they go out, but it was also an opportunity to buy something for Jin to replace the first gift.  He wanted to give Jin something that was just right, make him feel the same way the other man made him feel; warm and wanted.  The fact that he’d _chosen_ to come to Hwoarang and live in his crappy little apartment… well, it left the Korean wondering just what the heck he’d done to deserve it and how the hell to make Jin want to stay.

Sure, at first he’d resented Jin’s presence, but that was before they had quickly passed beyond rivals to friends and then beyond into something more.  He clenched his jaw and pulled Jin closer to him as they walked past a store window full of cute, pink electronics.  The last time he’d felt so close to someone they’d been taken away and he’d be damned if his shitty idea for a handmade gift sent Jin packing.  “Hey, want something from in there?” he said suddenly, motioning to a biker shop with black leather accessories in the window.  The mannequin was dressed in leather chaps and a tight leather vest.

“M-maybe we could go inside,” Jin shivered, “just to warm up a bit.  You probably want to shop for yourself.”

“I can only window shop, Kazama.  Play my favourite game of imagining what I would buy if I had money.”

Jin tilted his head and hunched his shoulders.  “Let’s do that, then.  I’m cold.”

They left the cold air behind them as they stepped into the shop and the door closed behind them.  It was brightly lit and there was some rock music playing from somewhere further in the store.  Hwoarang led the way in, turning his head back every few steps to make sure that Jin was there with him.  The dark-haired man was rubbing his arms vigorously, trying to warm up while looking around at the different racks of jackets and various t-shirts with bike company logos slapped across the front.  He shifted uncomfortably and then looked back to Hwoarang and smiled.  It was a small smile, but it was contagious and Hwoarang felt his mouth tighten in response just as he caught sight of something that made his heart skip a beat.  His eyes grew wide and he rushed to the counter, leaning against the glass and staring up at the steel-capped leather boots that hung just beyond his reach.

He could almost hear the angels singing and the light coming down from heaven to illuminate the footwear and he imagined how awesome it would be to wear them in the tournament.  He could put an opponent down in two, no, one kick if he were wearing them.  “Ohhhh,” was all he could manage as he felt Jin behind him.

The dark-haired man followed his line of sight and looked up as well.  “Try them on,” he said.  “It’ll be fun, see how they fit.”

“Naw, that’ll just be a tease,” Hwoarang pouted, unable to look away from the boots.

Jin didn’t seem to hear him, though.  He’d already called the store clerk over and had asked him to bring out a pair.  Hwoarang tried to protest again, but the dark-haired fighter wouldn’t listen and instead guided him to sit on a bench and try them on.  The clerk delivered a long, black box with the company logo on the outside, inside where the focus of Hwoarang’s attention.  He slid his foot into the leather confine of the right boot and groaned; it did fit nicely, too nice.  He wouldn’t want to take them off, but that didn’t stop him from putting the left one on and standing to walk around the store.  Damnit, they were awesome.  This was one thing he hated about his little game; it sucked when he found something he really, _really_ liked.  He walked back to put his old boots on, and leave the awesome boots on the floor by their box.  “Damnit, Kazama, that was mean.  Now I _really_ want them!” he announced as he walked through the store, trying to find the other fighter.  “Jin?”  He spotted the dark-haired man over by the counter, chatting with the store clerk.  “Let’s go.  I’m done.”

“Didn’t you like them?” the clerk asked innocently.  
“They’re awesome, but I’m broke, so… yeah.”  He turned on his heel and left.  He cranked the door open and stepped out, hearing Jin thank the clerk before the door closed and the cold bite of winter’s chill smacked him in the face.  Great, so now he found something he wanted and couldn’t afford _and_ he still had a lame gift for Jin.  His brows creased and he ground his teeth together, fuming over his failure.  He only stopped when the door opened a couple minutes later and Jin stepped out.  “Sorry to drag you out in the cold.  We can go home now.”  He’d resigned himself to Jin tolerating his present and just wanted to get it over with.

“Let’s go for a drink first,” Jin said, grabbing the redhead’s arm and pulling him further down the street.  “My treat.”

“You have money?” Hwoarang asked, allowing himself to be led.

“I’ve been saving, and teaching a bit at the dojo, too,” Jin said, pushing open the door to a bar and pulling Hwoarang inside.

They found a table near the window where they could watch the people walking by.  Hwoarang ordered a beer for himself while Jin enjoyed a coffee.  The redhead pretended to watch the people outside, but he was secretly watching the other man in the reflection of the glass.  His mind seemed to glaze over everything that he had done in his life until that point, and it seemed only right that Jin figured into a lot of it.  Sure, in the beginning he’d _hated_ the other man, taken it as something of a matter of pride to beat him down to nothing.  Of course, that obsession had led him to find Jin outside of the tournament and they had somehow struck up an odd friendship.  Well, not really friendship, more like an understanding.  Whatever it was, it made Jin confident enough to show up on the doorstep to Hwoarang’s shitty apartment earlier that year, looking for a place to crash.  Living together didn’t give the Korean much hope in ignoring his feelings which seemed to avalanche out of control the more time he spent with Jin.  Now he was sitting in a bar, drinking beer and stealing glances at his boyfriend.

“Hey,” Jin burst in on his thoughts, reaching out to touch Hwoarang’s shoulder.  “You look like you’re trying to burn a hole in the glass, are you okay?”

Hwoarang’s belly leapt into knots and he felt his pulse quicken.  He spun around on the stool and nodded, “Yeah, just thinking.”

“It’s kinda crowded in here,” Jin scrunched his face.  “Are you almost done, we could go back home and get comfortable.  We could make some hot chocolate.”

Hwoarang shrugged and downed his beer, it sounded good to him, and maybe he could put off opening presents until later.  Like, when he could go out and buy him something nicer.

+++

Hwoarang burst into his apartment, shaking off his jackets and kicking his boots to the side.  “Ugh, fuck it’s cold!”  He rushed towards the heater where he turned it up full-blast and stood right in front of it, waiting to feel warmer.

“I’m going to check the mail,” Jin said from the doorway.  “Why don’t you go into the kitchen and start the hot chocolate and then we can open presents.”

Hwoarang winced and nodded sheepishly, “S-sure.”  He headed for the kitchen, his mind focused on the present and how pathetic Jin would think it was.  It was so far from perfect, nobody would like it.  He mentally kicked himself for thinking it was a good idea at the time.  He heard Jin return, the floorboards creaking as he moved about in the other room.  He could feel the other man standing by the tree, eyeing that damn present.  The kettle whistled at that moment and he poured the water into the two waiting cups, stirring in the chocolate powder and almost angrily walking out to the other room.  He hated this feeling.  Let Jin open the wrapping and laugh at him, the waiting was killing him.

“Here!” he announced a little too forcefully as he gave Jin his mug and grabbed the gift.  “Open it; see what I got for you.”

“O-kay,” Jin said a little hesitantly as he sat on the couch.  Hwoarang wanted to sit beside him, but his feet had become frozen in place and he could only watch as Jin tore into the wrapping paper.  He half-covered his face, his fear rising to its pinnacle as Jin pulled the item free and unfurled the long woolen scarf.  The garment narrowed in the middle and one end was a different size than the other.  It was made up of three colours; Hwoarang had thought that fire would be a good colour scheme to make him feel warm, but the store only had red and yellow yarn and he’d bought white as a substitute.  It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but when he saw Jin holding it then, with the red and yellow and white all mashed together in the uneven mess, he silently vowed to never knit anything ever again.  EVER.

“Did you… make this?” Jin said, holding the scarf up so they could both see it clearly.  “You… _knit_ this, for me?”

Hwoarang took a deep breath.  “Well, the lady at the store thought it was a _great_ idea and promised me that it would be so easy and she would teach me and you would love it, but I totally fucked up and they ran out of orange and it’s so uneven and I didn’t know how to fix it and I didn’t have time to find something else for you and now you think I’m a total loser for this don’t you?”  He rambled and kept talking because he knew as soon as he stopped that Jin would answer him and he didn’t want an answer, he just wanted the damn thing to burst into flames and vanish.

Jin, however, didn’t say anything.  He sniffed once and then lifted the scarf over his head, placing it on his shoulders and wrapping it around his neck a couple times.  He ran his hands over the uneven ends for a moment before springing off the couch and wrapping his arms around the Korean’s neck.  “It’s perfect, Hwoarang.  Thank you.”

The redhead didn’t respond at first, but then he raised his arms to pull Jin tight against his body.  His fears seemed to melt away; he’d never considered that Jin would _like_ the damn thing!

“Nobody has ever made something for me,” Jin said against Hwoarang’s neck before pulling back and pressing his mouth against the Korean’s lips.  “But, you could have given it to me before we went for our walk,” Jin broke the kiss.  “I was freezing!”

“Uh, oh,” Hwoarang said, remembering how cold Jin had looked.

“And after I picked up those boots for you too,” the other fighter continued and reached beside the couch to lift a familiar-looking box.

“What?!” Hwoarang nearly screeched and grabbed at the long, black box, flinging the top open to confirm what he already knew.  “How… when… how the hell did you get these home without me noticing?”

“I bribed the clerk to deliver them for us; I just had to buy him some time to make the drop by our mailbox.”

“You…” Hwoarang trailed off as his eyes raked over the gleaming black footwear, the steel-caps seemed to twinkle at him with recognition.  He looked back to Jin to sit beside him, his scarf wrapped warmly around his neck and a smile bright on his lips.  The scarf didn’t look as ugly when Jin wore it and he reached out to grab the red end, pulling the other man close.  He placed the box on the floor and pulled Jin against his body, swallowing his smile with a deep, soul-searing kiss.  He wanted to thank the other man properly, and they had the entire night.


End file.
